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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22368577">The Lying Game</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Limecola/pseuds/Limecola'>Limecola</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age regression (as a mostly voluntary coping mechanism), Arkham Asylum, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Minor Jonathan Crane/Jervis Tetch, Nonbinary Character, Other, POV Original Character, Therapy, Workplace</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-01-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 12:08:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,782</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22368577</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Limecola/pseuds/Limecola</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>As outlined in my latest report, Jervis Tetch's extended incarceration in Arkham has corresponded to a measurable increase in his sociability and general mental stability. Additionally within my report, I detail evidence for a direct correlation between my tri-weekly sessions with Mr. Tetch and his marked improvement. In light of my findings, I would like to submit for your consideration my application as primary candidate for future projects involving Mr. Tetch, dependent of course on consistently good reviews of my work from my supervisor.</p><p>Sincerely,</p><p>Mx. Lesley Walsh</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Rating "Mature" for where I expect the story to go, will update tags and warnings with new chapters. </p><p>This story's been floating around in my head in one form or another for a while, hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mr Tetch looked up from his folded hands in a show of mild surprise as you entered his cell. As if it wasn't Monday - as if he wasn't acutely aware that it was Monday, 10:30am. As if he wasn't already seated at the small retractable table folded out from the wall, awaiting your arrival instead of lying curled up on the bed, lost in his own little world.</p><p>"Lesley! How good to see you!"</p><p>That had been difficult in the beginning, taken some time and a great deal of effort on his part... No Ms., no Mr. either. You were still an intern, too, and Dr. was simply not appropriate. He still sometimes tried to fumble for your last name out of habit, jumbled honorifics slipping messily over his tongue before he settled back on your first name. But they'd considered it great growth on his part - a sign that your sessions were having a positive impact. A willingness to alter his own deep-rooted behaviours was invaluable, even if it started small.</p><p>"Good morning, Jervis." Your lips smiled in greeting, but it was the way he visibly tempered his excitement by taking a deep breath and sitting up straighter that made the smile spread to your eyes. He was getting better. He was learning that if he could only keep his voice nice and even, not make any sudden movements, and keep his speech as intelligible to others as possible, the privileges would keep trickling in.</p><p>You placed the tray you were carrying down with care on the table. It was a plastic meal-tray, holding two lightweight plastic teacups and a matching plastic teapot half-filled with tepid chamomile tea.</p><p>If one were to open Mr Tetch's official Arkham file, they would find two printed pages stapled together detailing the specifications of this tea set, written by you last February. The cups and pot had been chosen for their light weight, and the fact that they could not be easily broken or altered into weapons without the help of tools. The handles of all three pieces had been removed, and the spout of the pot had been shortened and rounded, in order to reduce the damage they had the potential to inflict during an altercation. This wasn't usually an issue for practical use, as the tea was to be kept only lukewarm while in Mr Tetch's presence. The pieces had originated in a $14.99 children's tea set, which you felt had the potential to unintentionally reinforce Mr Tetch's immature self-image. This last fact you kept to yourself, and out of your report.</p><p>"How was your weekend?" You could tell he was only half-listening to your inquiry, the way his eyes followed your hands as you placed the cups on the table and carefully poured out two generous measures of tea. That was just fine, as you both knew the question was in all practicality a formality. You had spent the last three hours reviewing the footage and security reports from the days you'd been off work.</p><p>"Oh, uneventful." You had fast-forwarded through many hours of the small man curled up in the sheets of his bed, turning away from any noise or movement he perceived from the hallway. "I saw Doctor Crane." Ah, that's why he sat up suddenly and ran to the door shortly before dinner yesterday.</p><p>Mr. Crane must have been transported to one of the new cells downstairs... Of course his therapists wouldn't think to alert you or your supervisor that he would be passing by Jervis' cell, you thought bitterly... The strange affection Jervis felt towards the former Arkham doctor seemed too often overlooked...</p><p>"Passing by?" You took a sip of your tea.</p><p>"Passing by." Jervis sipped his own tea, eyes vacant for a moment. But the light soon returned. "How was <em>your</em> weekend, dear?"</p><p>You smiled. He should know better than to move the subject off himself so quickly, but then again, he had his real therapist at 4:00. As manufactured as your sessions were, they were in essence no more than a simple chat over terrible tea - with a mountain of paperwork for you to complete afterwards.</p><p>"It was fine." He hummed, accepting this answer and encouraging you to continue. "I didn't do very much. Cleaned my apartment... Saw a movie at the theatre, a new sci-fi-ish horror from Australia."</p><p>He nodded and gave a distinctly-Jervis half-grimace half-smile that said clearly: <em>I support your interests, even though I cannot begin to understand them</em>.</p><p>"You went alone?"</p><p>You didn't want to respond, you wanted to change the subject. "Yes."</p><p>"Lesley, dear, you have plenty of friends who love to be around you, oughtn't you spend some time with them instead of secluding yourself every spare moment?"</p><p>In your mind's eye, you saw the gray footage of Jervis pressed against the plexiglass yesterday.</p><p>"I texted someone, but she was busy."</p><p>Jervis audibly huffed, and began rubbing the knuckles of his left hand in irritation.</p><p>You'd really done it now. Jervis was extremely particular about who he allowed to converse with him, and he hated being lied to.</p><p>You lowered your head apologetically, picked up the teapot, and held it out tentatively in the direction of his cup. "I'm sorry." You said, already formulating in your mind the paragraphs you'd need to write in your report this afternoon to explain what was happening. Your supervisor would be reviewing the footage after lunch, and you doubted she'd accurately read his body language... Or yours.</p><p>Jervis held his cup out to you, and you topped up his tea. "It's quite all right." Though he still sounded irritated. The knuckle-rubbing continued throughout the rest of your session, though it was gentler.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Less than an hour remained of your shift when your supervisor walked into your cubicle. </p><p>Though you were in the midst of wrapping your work up for the day, your workspace had the appearance of disarray. print-outs and hand-written notes were laid out all over your desk. Everything was obscured except for the laptop, displaying a Word document that was empty aside from a single half-written sentence. </p><p>Your final task of the day was to combine three days worth of observational notes and security reports - late Friday afternoon to early Monday afternoon - into a short paragraph for Jervis' therapist to skim over before their session at 4:00. And you knew that the shorter you could condense it, the higher Mrs. Haruko  would grade you on your monthly review. But your sense of professional duty compelled you to be thorough, at least as much as you could be.</p><p>"Do you have a moment?"</p><p>"Of course." You sat back in your chair and placed your hands in your lap, even though your fingers itched to continue hovering over the keyboard.</p><p>Your supervisor walked around to the front of your desk, so she was facing you more directly. Ms. Harris was slightly shorter than you and a decade and a half your senior, always wearing the white coat of Arkham orderlies even though her rank and job did not demand it - a white coat allowed those working hands-on with the inmates to quickly spot if they had been touched with blood or other contaminates. Most days, the worst Ms. Harris had to worry about were coffee stains.</p><p>"Would you be willing to stay until 3:30, starting Wednesday?" That was only an extra half hour. "Nothing's set in stone, but there's something you may be able to help with."</p><p>In the flash that you had to process the request, you were hit with the impression that should would prefer to be making the request of someone else.</p><p>"Oh... Of course!" Your schedule hadn't changed in so long, despite your offers to participate in more projects, that it took you a moment to process what she was asking of you. "I'm free to stay longer. What will I be working on?"</p><p>Ms. Harris sighed, then pulled the chair next to your bookshelf around to the front of your desk and sat down. Your down coat was draped around it's back, the edges dragging along the carpet discoloured with powdered clay and road salt.</p><p>"Mrs. Haruko felt that Mr Tetch would benefit from some exposure to modern technology, so he's been getting 25 minutes with the iPads at the end of his free period."</p><p>"<em>Seriously</em>?" You really didn't mean to sound so incredulous... You felt regret rapidly rising as Ms. Harris narrowed her eyes at you.</p><p>"Yes..." She replied dryly. "<em>Seriously</em>." She waited a beat, as if to see if you'd interject again. "Mr Tetch..." She continued, "Deserves the same privileges as comparable inmates as a reward for his good behaviour... Says Mrs. Haruko. And if the activity can be integrated into his schedule without it causing too much undue stress, learning a new skill will almost certainly help him with changing his thought patterns." Your supervisor looked at you, then looked away. She continued, "Unfortunately, it's been rather more stressful than anticipated. He finds the mechanics of the technology... Difficult to grasp."</p><p>"Mm..." You gave a little half-smile. "He, uh... Isn't well-acquainted with the internet, I understand." </p><p>You had learned quickly in your private sessions to avoid topics related to anything <em>online</em>... It quickly led to great confusion.</p><p>"Barely comprehends what it is." Ms. Harris leaned her head forward and rubbed the bridge of her nose as you turned a snorting laugh into a cough. "But what we'd like you to work with him on is just basic navigation. He doesn't trust anyone on duty during the period and refuses to accept assistance or instruction, and the touch-screen greatly frustrates him. During his last technology period he refused to so much as go near it."</p><p>Back in March, the melting snow had reminded Jervis of his immigration to the US nearly two decades ago, and he had spoken fondly of stepping off the ferry into Gotham Harbour carrying only a suitcase and a portable typewriter folded into a briefcase. That had been in 2002, and it left you bewildered and amused to think that Jervis had then graduated from a supplementary program at Gotham U and secured a job at WayneTech while running all his papers and applications through that typewriter. </p><p>"Mrs. Haruko..." <em>Isn't teaching him how to navigate it herself? Even though she's the reason he's there?</em></p><p>"Does not begin with Jervis until 4:00."</p><p>"Of course."</p><p>"You'll go to the fourth floor rec room at 2:50 on Wednesday, then... Unless you have any more questions?"</p><p>No. Thank you, I appreciate it."</p><p>"Of course." Ms. Harris stood, straightened her jacket, and left without moving your chair back against the wall.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Mostly set-up for a chapter I'm really looking forward to writing, though thinking about young Jervis arriving fresh-faced and clueless in America was kind of a delight.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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